


just the memory of your face

by hapakitsune



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Amnesia, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark wakes up in bed with a husband he doesn't remember and a life he can't imagine having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just the memory of your face

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Alternately known as the ovw (The Vow) and a gift for aurora_84, who asked for amnesia fic for the holidays. I swear I'm still getting to those, guys. /o\ Thanks a million to those of you who listened to me talk about this in chat, especially that enabler of enablers, oflights.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> There is a pretty flippant reference to domestic abuse in this as well as some discussion of infidelity. Also soap opera amnesia. 

The sunlight slanted in bright and painful against Mark's face. He squinted and covered his face with his hand, groaning, and rolled over to grope for his clock. He instead knocked his hand against what felt like a pile of books. He opened his eyes wider, wondering what was going on, and saw a completely unfamiliar bedside table. 

"What the –" he muttered, and an arm snaked over his waist, pulling him in tight. 

"Come on, Mark," a warm voice murmured in his ear. "You promised me you'd sleep in today."

Mark tried to pull away, now freaking out a little, but the person next to him held on tight. "Let me go," Mark said sharply, smacking at the hand. "Get _off_ me!"

There was a pause, and then the arm released him. Mark jerked out of reach and sat up, heart pounding. His head ached, and he pressed a hand to his forehead before slowly turning and looking down at the person lying next to him in bed. 

Mark had guessed it was a guy from the voice and the size of the arm, but it was one thing to guess and another to see a shirtless man staring up at him with a confused expression on his face. Mark scooted further away and asked, "What the fuck is going on?"

"Ha ha, Mark," the man said, sitting up on his elbows. He looked like he was in his mid to late twenties, which frankly made the whole situation even more mystifying. "It isn't April yet, you know."

"Did you roofie me?" Mark asked suspiciously. "I don't – how did you get me here?"

"Mark," the man said slowly. "This isn't funny."

"I know it's not!" Mark shouted, temper snapping. "I don't know who the fuck you are and I _want to go home_!"

"You _are_ home, Mark," the man said quietly. "You don't remember who I am?"

"Should I?" Mark demanded. 

"Well, we're married," the man said, which was so blatantly a lie that Mark just ignored it. "Mark, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," Mark said, and he could tell by the way the man's face fell that he had said something wrong. "What?"

"You're twenty-seven, Mark," the man said. "And I'm your husband. Eduardo." When Mark just continued to stare at him blankly, Eduardo said, "We have to get you to a hospital."

 

"But I'm straight," Mark said in the car. He still wasn't sure that he believed this Eduardo, but there was a ring on his hand and he did look older in the mirror, so clearly there was something going on. "I like girls."

"You still do, as far as I know," Eduardo said distractedly. He was trying to dial something he claimed was a cell phone, although it was way smaller than any cell phone Mark had ever seen. "But you also like guys. Sometimes."

"Are you supposed to be doing that while you drive?" Mark asked suspiciously as Eduardo nearly drifted into the other lane, jerking the wheel when a car behind them honked angrily.

"No, but you don't know who Chris is," Eduardo said. "God, I didn't think you had hit your head that hard." He sounded weird, his voice thick, and Mark fidgeted uncomfortably. Whoever Chris was must have picked up then because Eduardo said, "Oh, hi – Mark isn't coming in today, I'm taking him to the doctor. I'll call you after, okay? Yeah. Thanks." He hung up and dropped the phone into his lap, focusing on the road. 

Mark looked out the window at the street and frowned. "Where are we? This isn't New York."

"No," Eduardo said absently. "Palo Alto."

Mark crossed his arms and glared at Eduardo. "Why the fuck would I be in Palo Alto?"

"You work here," Eduardo said, turning left. "How does your head feel?"

"Shitty," Mark said grumpily. His headache had moved to right between his eyes and his whole brain seemed to be throbbing. "Are we almost there yet?"

"Yeah." Eduardo pulled into the parking lot and got out. Mark threw open his door and slid out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, ducking his head so the sun wasn't in his eyes. Eduardo was suddenly at his side, reaching out to take his elbow. Mark jerked away, looking at him suspiciously. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "Don't touch me."

Eduardo blinked and withdrew his hand. He hunched his shoulders a little and said, "Sorry. It's, uh – your doctor is in there." He pointed at the building and started walking towards the front door. Mark trailed after him, shuffling his feet against the concrete. 

They took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Mark kept a careful two feet of distance between them the whole time, still wary. Eduardo kept shooting hesitant, awkward looks at him, and it made Mark want to just get _away_ from him. He wanted to be back in his house in New York or his room at Phillip Exeter, somewhere that was familiar. 

The nurse led them into the office right away and had Mark sit down on the examination table while she took his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse. He glared at Eduardo, who was hovering by the door awkwardly. "Does he have to be here?"

"Mr. Saverin is your medical proxy, Mr. Zuckerberg," the nurse said, frowning at him. "Seeing as you're here for what he described as probable amnesia, you might need him to go over your medical records."

"I don't want him here," Mark said stubbornly. 

Eduardo turned away for a moment. The nurse pursed her lips and ripped off the blood pressure cuff. "He's your husband, Mr. Zuckerberg," she said chidingly.

"So he says," Mark said. 

Eduardo turned back around and glared back at Mark. "I'm not leaving you, you – you –" He flailed about for the word and came up empty. 

"Wow," Mark said sarcastically. "I can really see why I married you."

"Oh, fuck you, Mark," Eduardo said angrily, but his voice cracked on Mark's name. Mark abruptly felt weirdly guilty and settled his face into a fiercer scowl to make up for it

"The doctor will be in to see you in a moment, Mr. Zuckerberg," the nurse said, and she eeled out of the room, muttering under her breath. Eduardo dropped into the empty chair pushed against the wall and crossed his arms, staring at Mark. 

Mark fidgeted and looked away, hating the way Eduardo looked at him like he was something that needed to be fixed. He felt fine, aside from the headache. 

He found himself playing with the ring on his left hand, like a nervous tic. He stopped himself and tucked his hands back in his pockets, hunching over himself and hoping Eduardo hadn't noticed. 

The doctor came in a moment later, flicking dark hair out of her eyes. She was pretty hot, Mark thought, with smooth golden skin and what he thought were probably awesome breasts. He wondered how old she was and if she was single. Then she said, "Hey, Mark – Eduardo said you fell yesterday and you're having memory problems now?"

Mark blinked and looked at Eduardo despite his resolution to _never look at him again_. Eduardo was looking very pale suddenly, and he ran a hand through his absurd hair.

"That's understating it a bit, Dr. Chan," Eduardo said. "He can't remember anything from the last nine years. He thinks he's eighteen years old."

Dr. Chan, who had been writing on her clipboard, looked up and said, "Excuse me?"

"He told me he's eighteen," Eduardo said. 

Dr. Chan let out a breath. "Oh dear."

 

A trip to the hospital and about a thousand tests later, Mark was diagnosed with retrograde amnesia and sent home to be around "familiar surroundings and people," no matter how many times Mark tried to protest that he _didn't know_ Eduardo or their house or their friends. Dr. Chan was optimistic about his chances for recovery, given that he hadn't hit his head that hard. 

"There's really nothing to do but wait for your memory to come back," she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. "So just take it easy and try not to hit your head again."

"That is really excellent advice, Doc," Mark said, trying for charmingly dry and instead coming out snide. Dr. Chan just gave him an amused look and patted his arm before going to talk to Eduardo. 

Eduardo was completely silent the entire way back, which suited Mark just fine. He was beginning to tire of the sound of Eduardo's voice after listening to him talk to the endless parade of doctors. 

But he did have one question for Eduardo. "You never said how I hit my head," he said as they reentered the house.

Eduardo let out a short laugh. "God, it was just – it was so stupid, I can't believe it even happened."

"What happened?" asked Mark, now a little curious despite himself. 

"You tripped over our dog," Eduardo said. 

Mark stared at him in disbelief. "Right. You expect me to believe that?"

Eduardo shot him a confused look. "Yes?"

"That is the worst fucking explanation I've ever heard," Mark said. "Maybe I should have taken those domestic abuse pamphlets that nurse tried to give me."

"Domestic abuse – they what?" Eduardo looked horrified. "They thought I was _abusing_ you?"

"Yeah, I guess that is stupid," Mark said, looking him up and down. "Anyone looking at you could tell you don't have the balls to hit someone else."

Eduardo opened and closed his mouth soundlessly for a moment, then burst out, "I would _never_ hit you! I _love_ you, even when you're a complete idiot. God, Mark!" He rubbed his face and sighed heavily. "I – I'm going to make up the guest bedroom, I'll sleep there until – until you're better."

"What am _I_ supposed to do?" Mark yelled after him as Eduardo started up the stairs. Eduardo didn't say anything back and Mark sulked for a moment before deciding to explore the house. 

To his surprise, he did find a dog in the kitchen, and it definitely recognized him, judging by the way the big fluffy thing started barking excitedly and jumping up onto Mark's leg. He scratched it behind the ears bemusedly and looked around. The dog's bowl was labeled _Beast_ in Mark's scratchy writing. 

"Beast, huh?" Mark said to the dog. It yipped again and started running around his feet, which definitely lent credence to the whole 'tripped over the dog' explanation Eduardo had thrown out. "Let's go look at the rest of the house, yeah?"

The living room looked more like what Mark expected from his house – a wide couch with a ridiculous number of blankets and a huge collection of DVDs, including the entire West Wing. There was a sleek laptop sitting open on the coffee table. Curious, Mark woke it up and then stared at the screen in shock. 

It was code – his code, he could tell – but he had no idea what it was for. Fascinated, he sat down and pulled the computer into his lap to take a closer look.

That was how Eduardo found him half an hour later, and he let out a low, fond chuckle. "Figures. What did you find?"

"What is it that I do?" Mark asked. He was still scrolling through the code, running through it in his head. He could tell what it was supposed to do, but he wasn't sure how the parts fit in together. He couldn't visualize how it would compile. 

"You, well." Eduardo scratched his neck and smiled lopsidedly. "You run a website?"

"A website?" Mark asked, slightly disappointed. "Really?"

"It's, um, a social networking site." Eduardo gestured a little, frowning. "It's like – oh, just google yourself, I don't think I can explain it well." Eduardo's smile turned self-deprecating. "But you're worth more than seventeen billion dollars."

Mark nearly knocked the computer off his lap. "What?" he demanded. "How is that even possible?"

Eduardo shrugged. "You're very smart, Mark."

Mark blinked at him, then ducked his head, feeling embarrassed. "I know," he said. He scrolled through the code aimlessly for a moment, then said, "I don't care about the money."

"I know," Eduardo said softly. "You never did. It was about the challenge – and proving how smart you are." 

Mark looked up again and stared at Eduardo for a long moment. "Yeah," he said slowly after a moment. "Yeah, it was."

"It was the same with Facebook," Eduardo said, getting up. "I – there are some things you might – on second thought, maybe you shouldn't search yourself. A lot of people don't like you." He laughed, a sharp noise that sounded very strange coming from him. " _I_ didn't like you for a long time."

"What?" Mark asked, but Eduardo was already moving out of the room, Beast on his heels. After a moment, Mark decided to disregard Eduardo's advice and typed his name into the search bar of his web browser. 

He couldn't make much sense of what found – he could understand what the articles were saying, of course, but it just didn't make any sense to him. It was like reading someone else's life history, and he ended up skimming aimlessly, looking for anything that might jog his memory. 

He got bored after about fifteen minutes and decided to look around the rest of the house. He set the computer back down on the coffee table and padded around to look at the mantelpiece, which had a number of framed photographs on it. 

The one sitting dead center was one of him and Eduardo; Mark recognized his own face, but was surprised again to see how much older he looked. His face was sharper, but he looked more relaxed. Happier. Eduardo was smiling hugely in the photo, looking at Mark as though he were the only person in the whole world. 

Mark looked again at his own face and tried to figure out what this other Mark, older-Mark, was thinking. He looked happy, and he was smiling back at Eduardo, enough that his cheek had dimpled. Mark lifted his hand to rub at his cheek absently and looked away from the photo, feeling his face grow hot. 

He moved to look at the neighboring photos. One was Eduardo in graduation robes, looking slightly harried and standing next to a blond boy Mark didn't know. Next to that was Mark wearing a really stupid graduation cap and standing in front of a sign that said _Facebook_. He was smirking. Mark frowned at it, and kept looking.

There were photos of Mark's family, one of Randi in a wedding dress, another of him and Eduardo and the rest of the family in front of – the Hogwarts Express? Mark and Eduardo had their arms around each other and Eduardo was smiling widely, a doofy-looking wizard's hat perched precariously on his head. Then there were others of people Mark guessed were Eduardo's family. They looked much sterner than Mark's family, and their photos were clearly done in a studio. Eduardo looked uncomfortable, his hair gelled down and wearing a suit and tie that were much stiffer than anything Mark had ever worn in his life. 

Mark turned away from the mantel, suddenly feeling like an intruder. He didn't belong here; he didn't belong to this life. He had never thought that he would get married, let alone to a man. The idea felt just – _wrong_. He didn't like anyone enough to even think about spending the rest of his life with them. More importantly, people didn't like Mark.

He kicked at the carpet aimlessly and shuffled out of the living room. He made his way back to the kitchen, then went up the stairs. He bypassed the bedroom, which he had already seen, and found Eduardo in a room that looked like an office. He froze, not sure what to do – but then Eduardo looked up and smiled brightly for a moment before seeming to remember that Mark didn't know him. 

"I was just looking around," Mark said defensively before Eduardo could say anything. 

"It's fine, Mark," Eduardo said, half-standing and gesturing him in. "Is there anything – I mean, do you have questions?"

Mark hovered in the doorway for a moment, then stepped inside. "Is this where you work?"

"Yeah," Eduardo said, sitting back down. "I'm mostly a consultant."

"Oh," Mark said. "You don't – I mean, I thought – we met at school, right?"

Eduardo's face went through a series of expressions that Mark couldn't follow before settling on a tight smile. "Yes." 

"I thought we would work together." Mark gestured vaguely between them. "But I guess we started dating in school?"

"No," Eduardo said. "We didn't." He sounded weird now, and Mark suddenly wished he had read those articles more closely. Then Eduardo let out a breath and said, "We – Facebook was your idea, but you came to me for the money. So yeah, we worked together for a little while, but then we – we had a falling out and didn't see each other for a few years."

"And then we got married," Mark said blankly. "Really."

Eduardo laughed, and this time it actually sounded genuine. "That's what everyone said." He was playing with the ring on his left hand, Mark noticed suddenly, just like Mark had been earlier. "We didn't tell many people we were dating."

Mark thinks that sounds pretty stupid, but he doesn't say as much. "We didn't want people to know?"

Eduardo shrugged. "It was my idea. I thought it would be better, but you – you hated it. I thought it would be better if we didn't get anyone's hopes up, you know?"

"No," Mark said flatly, and Eduardo smiled sadly. 

"That's what you said then, too." He tilted his head to the side. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten yet today."

"Yeah," Mark said. "What do we have?"

"I'll go pick up something," Eduardo said, edging out from behind his desk. "You just get familiar with the house, okay? Don't trip over Beast again." 

He was clearly trying to make it sound like a joke, but it came out pleading and a little desperate. Mark felt a strange shiver of guilt and tried to repress it. "Okay," he said, and he watched as Eduardo slid out the door. It kind of looked like he was running away. 

 

It turned out that being an amnesiac was really, really boring. Mark wasn't allowed to go to work, he wasn't allowed to go _out_ , and Eduardo worked a lot. Mark ended up reading or browsing the internet, trying to take stock of the changes that had happened in the world. In the evenings, Mark and Eduardo would eat dinner together and sometimes watch television. Eduardo was always careful not to touch Mark and rarely said anything to him either. 

Mark had no idea what to say to him. He could tell that Eduardo sometimes forgot that Mark wasn't himself; there were times when Eduardo would look up, a smile on his face, or when he would reach out as if to touch Mark's shoulder. They lived in each other's periphery – always close, but never interacting.

By the end of the week, he was practically crawling out of his skin with the need to do _something_. He was so bored he could hardly deal with it. He had tried fiddling with the Facebook code, but he hadn't been able to figure out what other-Mark had been working on, and had given up in frustration. 

So when the doorbell rang a little after noon, Mark practically ran for the door, Beast scampering after him. He flung the door open and said, "Hello," to the man on the doorstep.

"Hi," said the man on the doorstep. He had reddish hair and an open, friendly smile. He hit Mark lightly on the shoulder. "I heard you don't remember me."

"I don't remember anyone," Mark said. "Who are you?"

"Dustin, man! I was your roommate, your best friend – well, aside from Wardo, of course." Dustin bounced up and down lightly and then raised his eyebrows. "Well? Are you going to invite me in?"

"I don't know you," Mark said. "You could be a serial killer."

"I could be," Dustin agreed. "But I'm not. Come on, let's see if you remember how to play Halo." He pushed his way past Mark and was immediately set upon by Beast, who greeted him delightedly with much tail wagging. 

"Some guard dog," Mark muttered, heading for the living room. He slunk into his corner of the couch and watched as Dustin fiddled with the TV and the X-Box before throwing him one of the controllers and dropping into the giant armchair. 

"Well, you remembered that you liked the left corner," Dustin observed, eying Mark's nest. "I guess there's hope for you yet. Oh!"

Mark looked at him, puzzled, and said, "I'm beginning to regret inviting you in."

Dustin ignored him. "You don't remember any of my jokes! I can tell them all to you for the _first time_." He shook his head, looking awed. "I envy you, man."

"I don't think I'll laugh this time, either," Mark said dryly. "Are we going to play?"

Dustin grinned and said, "Yeah, of course – and you totally laughed the first time around, you'll remember." 

It was kind of nice just hanging out with someone who didn't keep shooting him sad, betrayed looks. Dustin just taunted Mark with cheerful trash talk and swore loudly when Mark blew him up. After Mark's fourth consecutive win, Dustin threw up his hands and said, "Well, you're still good at that."

"We should probably play Mario Kart," Mark said absently, maneuvering his character around the screen. "You're better at that."

He didn't realize the significance what he'd said at first, but then Dustin let out a squawk and hollered, "Wardo! Mark remembered something!"

Eduardo came running down the stairs, his shirt untucked and his eyes wild. "What?" he asked, skidding to a halt in front of the couch. "What did he remember?"

"He remembered that I'm good at Mario Kart!" Dustin said, grinning so hard that Mark genuinely wondered if his face hurt. "I know it isn't much, but it's something, right?"

Eduardo's face fell slightly, but he rallied almost immediately and gave Mark a small smile. "That's good. How exactly did you remember?"

Mark tried to think how it had come to him, but honestly couldn't say; he had just _known_ it, the same way he knew that his name was Mark. He still couldn't remember meeting Dustin or even playing Mario Kart with him before. It was weird; he could actually sense the gaps in his memory now, like he had found one of the center pieces of the puzzle but hadn't managed to connect it to anything yet. 

He shrugged and said, "I don't know."

Eduardo sat down on the opposite end of the couch and watched Mark for a moment, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Then he said, "It's still good news, right? At least this proves you're getting something back."

"Here," Dustin said to Eduardo, leaning down to pick something up. It was small and white and Mark frowned as Eduardo took it. "Play Mario Kart with us."

"What is that?" Mark asked, pointing at the white thing, and it took Eduardo and Dustin a few minutes to explain what a Wii was and how to use it, but Mark's hands seemed to remember how to hold the wiimote, which was kind of weird. 

"Learned skills," Eduardo said, parroting one of the many doctors they had seen. "It'll probably come to you."

"This is pretty cool," Mark allowed, tilting the wiimote to turn his character's car. 

Eduardo flashed him another smile and for a moment, Mark had the startling urge to smile _back_. He whipped his head back around and scowled at the screen, hating the warmth spreading through his chest. 

Dustin stayed for dinner and told Mark stories about Harvard, clearly exaggerating some aspects. It eased the tension that had been hanging between Mark and Eduardo for the past week. Eduardo actually laughed, a full-throated laugh where he threw back his head. Mark's eyes were drawn to the long line of Eduardo's neck and he stared fixedly for a moment before catching Dustin's eye. 

"So how have you been getting by?" Dustin asked, poking at his food. "How bored are you, Mark?"

"Pretty fucking bored," Mark admitted. Eduardo looked slightly guilty at that. 

"You should come by the offices," Dustin said. He raised his hand to forestall Eduardo's protests. "The employees are starting to worry about Mark's mysterious illness, okay, he doesn't have to talk to any of them. I'll just shut him in one of the conference rooms, people will think it's normal."

"No," Eduardo said, shaking his head. "Dustin, it's a bad idea."

"We can't just keep him shut up in here," Dustin protested. "He's not going to get better like that, Eduardo. Come on, you know he spends most of his time at the offices anyway."

Eduardo made a face, but agreed. "That's true," he said. "Fine, take him in. It'll give him something to do, anyway."

"I'm sitting here," Mark said loudly. "Right here."

Dustin rolled his eyes, but Eduardo made this weird guilty face and said, "Sorry, it's just – weird."

"Yeah," Mark said. "I know." 

Eduardo somehow managed to look even guiltier and Dustin rolled his eyes so hard Mark was sure he'd strain something.

Try as he might, Mark couldn't force himself to remember anything else that night. It was easy, being around Dustin, but he thought it had more to do with the fact that Dustin was just an easy person to hang out with than him recalling any fondness. 

After dinner, Dustin bid them farewell with a cheerful, "See you Monday, Mark! Later, Wardo," and left in his shiny car.

Mark looked over at Eduardo and asked, "Why does he call you that?"

"Why does he call what?" asked Eduardo absently, already heading back to the kitchen to clean up. 

"Wardo," Mark said, and nearly ran into Eduardo when he pulled up short. Mark stood there for a moment, confused, and then saw that Eduardo's shoulders were shaking. "Are you –"

"It's what you – it's what you call me," Eduardo said, voice suspiciously thick. He didn't turn around. "Dustin started doing it to make fun of you, but – you're the one who always called me that." 

"Oh," Mark said. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and then Eduardo said, "I'm going to do the dishes. Do you want to help?"

"God no," Mark said involuntarily. 

Eduardo looked around at that, smiling a little. "Yeah, you never liked doing that. Come dry anyway?"

"All right," Mark said after a brief hesitation, and he followed Eduardo into the kitchen.

It was kind of nice, doing something so simple and domestic. Eduardo didn't try to engage Mark in conversation, just passed him dishes to dry and stack. Mark wondered if they did this often; there was a certain kind of practiced ease to Eduardo's movements that spoke of many nights of comfortable housework.

"Do I still fence?" he asked Eduardo as they put the dishes away. 

"Yeah, sometimes," Eduardo said. "I know you teach one of the Facebook people's kids. I've still never seen you do it, though." He fidgeted one of the plates into a neater position and glanced down at Mark. "You want to fence again?"

"Kind of," Mark admitted. 

"You keep your fencing stuff in the closet by the front door," Eduardo said. "And I think there are a couple of people at Facebook who fence, if you wanted to do that."

"Maybe," Mark said. He leaned up on his toes to put a glass on its shelf and was startled when Eduardo put his hands on his waist, as if to support him. His palms were warm through the fabric of Mark's shirt, and his fingers dug lightly into the flesh of Mark's hips. Heat pooled in Mark's stomach suddenly, and he let out a small noise.

"Sorry," Eduardo muttered, dropping his hands. "Just – habit, sorry."

"It's fine," Mark said, leaning back and way from him. "I'm going to – go to bed."

"Sleep well," Eduardo said, and Mark hurried out of the kitchen, feeling strangely breathless. 

 

Dustin picked him up on Monday morning because Mark didn't know the way to the offices himself. He was a bit more subdued, as it was pretty early in the morning, but he gave Mark a bright smile. "Ready?"

"Sure," Mark said, shrugging. "Is there anything I need to know?"

"Don't talk to anyone," Dustin said. "Just to be safe." 

The drive only took a few minutes. Mark squinted out the window and saw a sign that read _Facebook_. Dustin swung into the parking lot and said, "We're here."

Mark slid out and followed Dustin inside the building, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pockets. The main office was an open area filled with long desks where people were typing, headphones in. At the sight of Mark, there was a ragged cheer from a group towards the back, and then everyone turned to look. 

"Yeah, yeah," Dustin said, rolling his eyes. "Daddy's home, yes. Get back to work." He led Mark over to an empty desk and picked up the laptop that was sitting there. "Here." He shoved it into Mark's hands and then started steering him towards the wall of doors against the far wall. 

"What am I going to be doing?" Mark hissed at Dustin. 

"I'll show you, now come on," Dustin said, and he shoved Mark into what appeared to be a small conference room. 

Mark sat down in one of the chairs and waited while Dustin started up the computer. "What am I going to be doing?" he repeated.

"I'm going to have you work on one of the bugs we've been having," Dustin said absently, typing furiously. "Maybe it'll help jar your memory. You were cursing about this before your – before you hit your head."

"Okay," Mark said. "What is it supposed to do?"

They spent the next twenty minutes going over what Mark was going to be doing. It wasn't as difficult as he was afraid it would be; older-Mark didn't seem to have changed a lot of his habits, which was reassuring, and made it easier for Mark to decipher what was going on. Dustin left once he was confident Mark knew what he was doing, and Mark tuned out everything and lost himself to his work. 

Dustin retrieved him at lunch and took him out to a cafe where they met the blond man from Eduardo's graduation photo. "This is Chris," he said to Mark. "He was our other roommate at Harvard."

"Hi," Chris said, holding out his hand. "How are you?"

Mark shook Chris's outstretched hand, slightly bemused, and asked, "Are you always like this?"

"Yes," Dustin said with a sigh, dropping into the seat next to Chris. "He's secretly from the eighteen hundreds."

"I'm really not," Chris said, stirring the cup of tea in front of him. "So Mark, are you doing all right? Have you gotten anything back?"

"Not really," Mark said. "I remembered that Dustin likes Mario Kart."

Chris cracked a small smile at that. He was handsome, Mark thought, and he wondered if Eduardo and Chris had ever been together. His stomach clenched nauseatingly for a moment and he clenched his hands into fists against the sudden, startling rush of anger at the idea. 

"It'll come back," Chris said reassuringly, and as he leaned forward to take a sip of tea, something about the way the light caught Chris's hair tugged at Mark's memory.

"You had really short hair when we met," he said abruptly. Chris looked up, startled. "It was spiky."

Dustin let out a little shout. "Yes!" he said in an excited hiss. "Yes, it was terrible."

Chris coughed delicately. "I grew out of it," he said primly. 

"Prada," Mark said, and Chris chokes on his sip of tea. "Did I call you that?"

"Yes!" Dustin said eagerly. "Yes, you did!"

They were both watching him now, as if expecting him to continue spewing memories like a broken tap. Mark shrugged and said, "I don't remember everything. Just –" He could remember small things now – vague images of Chris lounging on a sofa, teasing him for his clothes in a joking way. "Just a few things."

"Still, that's really good news!" Chris enthused. He reached out and patted Mark's shoulder, smiling. "I'm glad to hear it."

Mark blinked at him and looked down at the menu. "Thanks." 

Lunch was quiet; Chris and Dustin talked about people that Mark didn't remember, and though some things came back as he listened – he remembered that Chris was engaged, that Dustin hated diet soda – nothing concrete came. He just had pieces of knowledge without knowing how they fit into these people who were, basically, strangers. 

Dustin drove Mark back to the offices and they were on their way back to Mark's impromptu office when a man with curly blond hair and a suit jacket slid towards them, grinning. 

"Mark, my man!" he enthused. "Glad to see you dragged yourself from your sickbed."

"Yeah," Mark said blankly. "Um." He looked to Dustin for help. "Thanks?"

"What's up with Mark?" the man asked, frowning down at him. 

"Hey, Sean," Dustin said, sounding tired. "He has amnesia. Thinks he's eighteen. Don't go blabbing it around town, okay?"

"I would never," Sean said, sounding offended. "Shit, really, though?" He leaned into Mark's face, squinting. "You really don't remember me, Mark? I'm Sean Parker, your best friend!"

"What?" Mark asked, stunned. 

"Don't listen to him," Dustin said. " _I_ 'm your best friend. Or Wardo is."

Sean flung his arm around Mark's shoulder, seeming not to notice that Mark was frozen in place. "Nah, I'm totally his buddy. Right, Mark?"

"Sean _Parker_?" Mark demanded, just managing not to squeak. " _Napster_ Sean Parker?"

"He didn't found Napster," Dustin sighed. 

"Don't hate," Sean said. "Shit, eighteen? Really? So he doesn't even remember Harvard or anything? Oh man, does he not remember _Eduardo_?"

"Leave him alone," Dustin said, glaring at Sean with more ferocity than Mark would have guessed Dustin was capable of. "Don't fuck with his head right now, okay?"

"I would never," Sean said, affronted. "Eduardo fights dirty." 

Dustin gave him a suspicious look and tugged Mark away, muttering darkly under his breath. Mark trailed after him, glancing back over his shoulder towards Sean, who had leaned over the desk of one of the female programmers. She looked remarkably unimpressed. 

"How do I know Sean Parker?" he asked Dustin once they were back inside the conference room. "Does he work for Facebook?"

"God, no," Dustin said. "I think Chris would go crazy trying to keep all of Sean's stuff out of the press. Sit down and don't think about Sean, okay? You'll thank me when you're back to normal."

Mark blinked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about, but Dustin had turned away. After a moment, Mark sighed and woke up the laptop to get back to work. 

 

"How was it at the office?" Eduardo asked him when Mark came back home. Beast capered around Mark's feet, yipping excitedly. Mark reached down to pet the top of Beast's head, smiling a little despite himself. 

"It was fine," Mark said. He gave up and dropped to the floor so Beast could jump into his lap the way he clearly wanted to. He glanced up and caught Eduardo giving him a fond look. He swallowed with difficulty, feeling awkward. "What?"

"I was wondering –" Eduardo bit his lip, then sat cross-legged next to Mark. "I thought we could go out for dinner. Maybe see a movie or something?"

"Why?" Mark blurted out without meaning to. Eduardo's face fell slightly and Mark felt guilty. "I just mean, why tonight?"

"Oh, well." Eduardo fidgeted with the hem of his trousers for a moment. "Chris said that you were getting more memories back, so I thought it might help to go out. We don't have to go out to a movie, we can just watch something here, if you'd rather."

"I'm not getting much back," Mark said, frowning as he absently stroked Beast's back. Beast's tail beat the floor. "I still don't remember anything important." 

"Everything counts," Eduardo said. He pulled himself to his feet and offered Mark a hand. "Are you in?"

Mark eyed Eduardo's hand, then took it. "Nowhere fancy," he warned. 

Eduardo smiled as he tugged Mark up. "Burgers it is. You don't remember In & Out, do you?" Mark shook his head and Eduardo said, "Well, that's decided." 

On the drive to In & Out, Mark abruptly recalled what Sean had said back at the Facebook offices and asked, "Do you know Sean Parker?"

Eduardo slammed on the brakes to avoid running a red light and looked at Mark. "What?"

"Sean Parker," Mark said. "I met him today. I guess older-Mark knows him."

Eduardo's expression darkened. "What did he say to you?"

Mark shrugged. "Nothing much. He said he was my best friend. He mentioned you, though. You know him, right?"

"Yeah," Eduardo muttered. "I know him."

Mark waited, but no further information seemed forthcoming. "Dustin wouldn't tell me how I know him," Mark pressed. 

Eduardo heaved a sigh. "He helped Facebook when it was in its early stages."

"Really?" Mark asked eagerly. "Did he approach us? How did –"

"Mark, I really don't want to talk about Sean Parker," Eduardo snapped. "Just – can we talk about something else?"

"Like what?" Mark asked blankly. 

"I don't know," Eduardo said, sighing. "Want me to tell you about your family?"

"Oh," Mark said, because he hadn't really given much thought to them. "Have you told them what happened?"

"Yeah," Eduardo said. "They didn't want to overwhelm you with new information, so they're holding back, but your mom is really worried."

"Of course she is," Mark muttered. The light turned green and Eduardo pulled forward. "I'm surprised she didn't just turn up here. She did that once when I got pneumonia at Exeter."

Eduardo smiled a little. "Is it because you never wear a coat?"

Mark huffed and crossed his arms. "I only need it for between classes and that's not that long."

"Sandals don't help either," Eduardo said, and the look he gave Mark was so fond and so knowing that it made Mark blush involuntarily. He immediately scowled and looked away. 

"Whatever," he said. Eduardo pulled into the In & Out parking lot and leaned out the window as a woman in a uniform came up to take their order. He ordered for himself, then glanced at Mark, who shrugged. "Do you know what I like?"

Eduardo smiled at him for no apparent reason and said, "I do," and ordered something complicated-sounding. Mark found himself watching the line of Eduardo's profile, willing himself to remember something, anything about him. When Eduardo leaned back, he caught Mark looking and asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Mark said, and he faced forward again, stomach twisting.

Eduardo pulled forward, drumming his hands on the wheel. He glanced over at Mark. "How was, um. How was it at Facebook?"

Mark thought about it as Eduardo paid for their food at the window. "It was interesting," he said eventually. "Dustin had me work on a bug. It was harder than I thought it would be." He hunched his shoulders and tipped his head against the glass. "I wish I could remember making it."

"You were obsessed," Eduardo said, sounding both fond and exasperated. "I don't know how you got through your classes. You spent all your time hunched over your computer."

"We weren't – like, we weren't together then or anything?" Mark asked, glancing at Eduardo. "You said we only started dating after – when we were older."

"No, we weren't together," Eduardo said. He passed Mark the food and put their drinks in the cupholders. "We – it's complicated."

"Oh," Mark said. He opened the bag and dug out a fry. "Okay."

He munched on the fries as Eduardo drove back to the – to _their_ – house, thinking. He wondered if he had liked Eduardo back at Harvard, how they had even met. Older-Mark's life made absolutely no sense to him. 

"I can't believe I know Sean Parker," he muttered as Eduardo pulled into their driveway. "That's insane."

" _He_ 's insane," Eduardo retorted. "You'll figure that out soon."

Mark rolled his eyes and slid out of the car. "He invented Napster when he was nineteen."

"Co-founded," Eduardo said. "You don't see me going around claiming that I invented Facebook."

"What exactly did you do for Facebook?" Mark asked, looking over his shoulder. Eduardo froze for a moment, mouth turned down unhappily. "I mean, you said you got the money, but what else?"

Eduardo laughed self-deprecatingly. "That was really it. Sean, well. He was better for the company than I was."

Mark frowned. "But how did I meet Sean?"

"My, uh. My girlfriend knew him. She introduced him to us." Eduardo made a face. "Can we talk about something else, Mark? What do you want to watch?"

"I don't know," Mark said. "Pick something." 

They settled in the living room, and Eduardo plucked something off the shelf. "You love this movie," he assured Mark with a smile, and he popped it in the DVD player. 

Mark sipped his milkshake and waited as the opening credits rolled. Eduardo curled up next to him, tucking his socked feet under his legs. "What is it?" Mark asked. 

"It's a Pixar film," Eduardo said. "Came out a few years ago. It's called _Wall-E_."

Mark took out his burger and flattened the bag on the coffee table as the opening titles started. 

By the end of the film, Mark had shifted sideways slightly until his feet were just pressed against Eduardo's thigh. Eduardo was smiling a little soppily at the screen, and he put his hand over Mark's ankle, gentle and unassuming. Mark started, staring at the way Eduardo's fingers curled familiarly over the jut of his bone. It didn't feel strange, either; it was comfortable. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Eduardo said, noticing. He pulled his hand away and smiled sheepishly. "Let me clean this up."

Mark watched as Eduardo collected the trash from their meal, rubbing his palm over his ankle to try to rid it of the lingering warmth from Eduardo's touch. Eduardo gave him a quick smile and went to throw the trash out in the kitchen.

He got to his feet and shuffled towards the stairs. Eduardo caught up with him a moment later and asked eagerly, "How did you like the movie?"

"It was good," Mark said. He thought for a moment, then added, "Thank you. I still don't – I don't remember anything, but it was a good idea."

"It was worth a shot," Eduardo said. "I –" He swayed forward hesitantly, eyes dropping. Mark swallowed hard, not sure what he wanted to happen. "Good night," Eduardo said finally, leaning back on his heels and shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Mark backed away from him, and said tersely, "Night," and ran up the stairs to the bedroom.

 

Mark found his fencing equipment two days later, looking as though it hadn't been used in a while. He picked up the foil and gave it an experimental swish. Beast barked curiously at him, and Mark waved at him, trying to get him to go away. 

"I don't want to hit you," he told the dog. Beast whined and tried to jump up. 

He took the foil out to the yard and went through the drills from the team at Exeter. He could tell that Older-Mark hadn't fenced in a while from the way his muscles protested, but he gritted his teeth and adjusted his stance. 

He didn't notice Eduardo until he was finished, a bit sweaty and hot from the exertion. Eduardo was watching him from the door to the patio, looking slightly thunderstruck. Mark wiped off his forehead with the back of his hand and shifted awkwardly. 

"Hi," he said. 

"I've never seen you fence before," Eduardo said, coming outside. His gait was a little strange, and when he came closer, Mark saw that he was flushed and his eyes were slightly darker than usual. "I knew you did, but – you never let me watch."

"Really?" Mark asks in surprise. "Maybe because I never had a partner."

Eduardo was standing very close to him now, close enough that when Mark glanced down he could see Eduardo's feet. "I – Mark," Eduardo breathed, and Mark looked up, his heart pounding. "You look –"

"Wardo?" Mark asked, the name slipping out easily.

Eduardo made a soft noise and grabbed Mark, reeling him in. Eduardo kissed him hard, his fingers digging into Mark's shoulder. Mark gasped and dropped his foil to the patio, where it clattered loudly. He fisted his newly freed hands in the front of Eduardo's shirt and kissed back instinctively. Eduardo kissed him until they were both breathless and had to pull apart for air. 

"Mark," Eduardo sighed, curving his hand around the back of Mark's head. "I – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He stepped back, shaking his head. "I'm – I'm going to go out to lunch, I shouldn't have – I'm sorry, Mark, I'll see you later."

Mark stood there, mouth raw and tingling, as Eduardo turned and went back inside their house. After a moment, he picked up his foil and checked it over for dents before going to put it away. 

 

Things were weird after that. They both avoided each other when they could, and Eduardo wouldn't meet Mark's eyes when they passed by each other. Mark ended up spending most of his time in the Facebook offices with Dustin, where he could stop thinking about the way Eduardo had kissed him, like there was nothing else on earth he would rather be doing.

He was starting to remember small things, like how he had come up with the idea for the relationship status, and his first girlfriend. He even remembered some things about Eduardo – nothing that interesting, but he remembered coming back to the room to find Eduardo passed out on their sofa, his head pillowed against his economics textbook. 

He started having the dreams a few days after the kiss, just short, sensory dreams of possessive caresses along his ribs, soft kisses pressed along his neck. He woke up aroused and frustrated, not knowing whether it was fantasy or memory. 

The third time it happened, Mark stumbled to the bathroom and jerked off over the toilet, one hand braced against the wall to hold himself up. His knees buckled when he came and he crumpled to the floor, heart pounding. 

He tipped his head back against the wall, breathing hard, and tried not to think about kissing Eduardo again.

 

Sean showed up at the Facebook offices the day after that, slick and smug. He sat down across from Mark and said, "So how's the brain?"

"Still better than yours," Mark said dryly. "What do you want?"

"Just checking in," Sean said, clutching his hand to his heart. "I'm hurt that you doubt my good intentions."

"You don't have good intentions," Mark said. "You only think about yourself."

They both looked at each other for a moment and then Sean shouted, "There's the Mark I remember!" He reached out and seized Mark by the shoulders, shaking him. "Do you remember me?"

"You're not going to shake the memories loose, Sean!" Mark said, shoving his hands off. "Why are you _here_?"

"I wanted to see if you can shake the ball and chain long enough to go out tonight!" Sean said cheerfully. "There's a new club open and I need a wing man, okay."

"You'll be able to hit on the underage girls just fine without me," Mark said grumpily, because he did remember that now. 

"Don't you want to get out and have some fun, Mark?" Sean wheedled. "You're eighteen –"

"I'm twenty-seven," Mark said crankily. "And you're thirty-two, aren't you too old to be picking up co-eds?"

"Never," Sean declared. "Come on, Mark."

Mark considered his options dolefully. He could either go home to another excruciatingly awkward night of avoiding Eduardo – or he could go out with Sean and possibly enjoy himself. "Fine," he said grumpily, putting his headphones on. "I'll come out with you."

Sean whooped and said, "Picking you up at nine – be ready."

Mark didn't think about what he would tell Eduardo until he was already back at the house. Eduardo was sitting on the couch, watching what looked like the weather channel. Mark frowned, then looked at him and said, "I'm going out tonight."

"Okay," Eduardo said, looking up. "Tell Dustin I say hi."

"I'm not – I'm going out with Sean," Mark said. Eduardo's face shifted into a scowl and Mark added hurriedly, feeling as though he had to justify himself, "It might help me remember something, right?"

"Maybe," Eduardo muttered. "Does it have to be _Sean_?"

"Why do you hate him so much?" Mark burst out angrily. "He's kind of a tool, but so are a lot of people!"

"He's a – you can't understand, Mark, you don't remember what it was like when you first met Sean," Eduardo said tiredly. "I know you're friends with him, but I'll never like him and right now it's – I wish you weren't going."

"All you do is ignore me," Mark said, annoyed. "We're supposed to be married and you spend most of your time avoiding me! You _kiss_ me and then you pretend I don't exist. I'm sorry I want to go out with someone who _talks_ to me."

Eduardo got to his feet, straightening up to his full height. "I love you, Mark," he said, voice shaking. "I loved you for – for _years_ and you never even noticed. And now it's like you're the same kid I met at Harvard and while I still love you, you don't love me. Do you know how hard that is? If I didn't avoid you, I wouldn't be able to _stop_ kissing you and that – that isn't fair to you right now."

"Fair to me?" Mark asked, surprised.

"You don't even know me," Eduardo said, and his voice actually cracked this time. "I'm not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with. I love you too much for that. Excuse me." He moved past Mark and Mark heard the sound of him going up the stairs, then the slam of a door. 

Mark stared at the TV, which was still cycling through the weather forecast, and then called Sean. 

 

The club Sean took to him was loud and kind of obnoxious, but it had a bar and that was all Mark really cared about. Older-Mark had a much higher tolerance that he did – than he'd had? – judging from the fact that Mark had tipped back four of the drinks Sean had put in front of him and was only feeling slightly buzzed. 

"So what do you think?" Sean asked, pitching his voice to carry over din. 

"It's really loud," Mark said. "Aren't you going to go dance?"

"I don't need to," Sean said with a smug grin. "They'll come to me." He turned so he was leaning back against the bar, his legs spread wide. "Unless you want to go dance."

Mark made a face and signaled the bartender for another drink. "No, I don't dance."

"You do now," Sean said. "You can bust a move like no one else."

Mark glared at him. "Don't fuck with me."

Sean smirked and said, "Glad to see you haven't lost your common sense, at least." He reached back for his drink and downed half in one swallow. "You _do_ dance, though. But only with Eduardo."

"How did that even happen?" Mark burst out, unable to restrain himself anymore. "I am – was – straight!"

Sean shrugged. "Have you looked at Eduardo?" he asked. "I'm pretty much only into girls, but he's got a certain something going on."

Mark felt a sudden hot rush of anger at that and he snapped, "Don't say that."

Sean shot Mark a look. "Don't worry, Mark, I'm not going to step up on your territory. He's too clingy for my tastes."

"He isn't clingy," Mark said defensively. "He is, like, the opposite of clingy."

Sean raised his eyebrows. "No, that's you," he said. "Eduardo always needs to know where you are. It would be sweet except that he also goes crazy on people he thinks are a threat."

Mark glared at Sean. "Don't talk about him like that," he said angrily, sure that Sean was wrong about Eduardo. "I wouldn't have married someone like that."

Sean laughed. "Oh man," he said, squeezing Mark's shoulder. Mark shrugged him off. "I love eighteen year-old you. You're so cute." He pinched Mark's cheek and Mark slapped his hand away, scowling. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. 

"Possessive sex is _awesome_ ," Sean said happily, and he tipped back the last of his drink. "Plus, I bet Eduardo is super kinky in –"

"Shut _up_ ," Mark snapped. He grabbed his drink and slipped off the stool. "You're being such an asshole."

"There's the Mark I remember," Sean said. "Getting defensive about Eduardo? Classic you."

"You are the worst," Mark said, and he stomped away towards one of the tables. He sulked in the corner with his drink until it was down to the ice. He chewed one of the ice cubes and watched the dance floor. He saw Sean talking to a tall girl with kinky curly dark hair, and then Sean took her hand and led her into the press of bodies. 

Mark sighed and leaned back against the wall, sucking on an ice cube. He had just about decided to go get another drink – he was looking forward to ordering without being carded – when a man with light hair and slight stubble dropped into the seat opposite him. 

"You looked lonely," he said with a small, sly smile. "And you're dry. What are you drinking?"

Mark frowned, but he wasn't one to turn down free booze. "I don't know, actually, my friend got it for me."

"Let me buy you a drink," the guy said, smiling wider. Mark's face went hot and he looked down, embarrassed. 

"I don't know your name," Mark said. 

"Right, of course," the guy said. "Brad." He held out his hand and Mark took it. He felt weirdly light-headed and kind of – well, turned on. He swallowed hard and stared blankly at Brad. 

"Are you going to tell me your name?" Brad asked with a teasing grin. 

"Um," Mark said, mouth dry. "It's, I'm – Mark. My name's Mark."

"Well, Mark," Brad said, stroking his thumb over the back of Mark's hand, "I'm gonna get myself a white russian. What would you like?"

"Vodka redbull?" Mark said, hoping it didn't sound too juvenile. 

Brad winked at him and said, "I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere." He released Mark's hand and got up to go to the bar. Mark stared after him, heart beating hard. 

Apparently older-Mark _was_ gay, and not just for Eduardo. 

Mark looked down at his left hand where his wedding ring still sat. He wondered if Brad had seen it or if he just didn't care. After a moment, he twisted it off his finger and slipped it into his jeans pocket. There was no harm in just seeing what it was like flirt with a guy, he rationalized. 

His hand felt weirdly light and naked without the ring. He rubbed his finger and tried to ignore the sick swooping of guilt in his stomach. He wasn't really doing anything _wrong_ ; he wasn't going to cheat on Eduardo, and even if he did – 

Mark clenched his hand in the fabric of his jeans and looked for Brad so he would stop thinking about Eduardo. He saw Brad leaning up against the bar, jeans pulling tight against his legs. Mark licked his lips and picked out another ice cube to suck on. 

Brad returned to the table with their drinks and slid Mark's glass to him. "A toast?" he asked, lifting his glass. Mark shrugged and lifted his glass. "To unexpected pleasures."

Mark clinked glasses with him and took a sip of his drink. Then he asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Brad said, leaning across the table, "I wasn't expecting to find someone as cute as you here tonight."

"Oh," Mark said involuntarily. "Oh, uh. Are you visually impaired? It's dark in here, I know."

Brad laughed, throwing his head back. Mark took another sip of drink to hide his small smile. "No," Brad said, grinning at Mark. "I'm not. You've got a certain kind of intensity. Do people not hit on you often?"

"I – not really," Mark said, which he was guessing was still true for older-Mark. "This is really unusual."

"Other people's blindness serves me well," Brad said. He drank some more, then asked, "Want to dance?"

"I don't dance," Mark said blankly. "I'm terrible at it."

"Oh, come on," Brad said, reaching for Mark's hand. "It'll be fun, Mark."

Mark let Brad drag him upright. "Fine," he said. "But this was your idea."

Mark had no idea how to dance, but it didn't seem like he needed that much coordination because all Brad wanted to do was grind against him. He pressed up against Mark, one hand spread low on Mark's back, and Mark tilted his head up a little to look at Brad's face. It was all right, but it felt – off somehow. Mark could tell that Brad was turned on, but Mark wasn't feeling it. Brad was too muscular, too tall, too _blond_. 

"Not so bad, right?" Brad asked, leaning in so close that Mark was breathing in his exhalations. "Is it okay if I –" He lifted one hand to cup Mark's jaw, staring intently at Mark's mouth. Mark's eyes drifted closed and he thought again about Eduardo's kiss, about how intent and hopeful and – perfect it had been. 

He didn't want Brad. 

Mark said, "No," without really meaning to. Brad started back, looking offended. "I mean – I can't, I – I have to go." He stepped back, stomach roiling with guilt. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home and just curl up in bed and forget that he had ever met Brad. "I'm married, I'm – I can't do this."

"Married?" Brad asked blankly, but Mark was hurrying away, hating himself and knowing that older-Mark would hate him even more. He fumbled the wedding ring out of his pocket and put it back on. He let out a breath of relief and went to find Sean. 

He found him with the same curly-haired girl that Sean had been with earlier, and he dragged Sean away, telling the girl, "He has herpes."

"I do _not_ have herpes," Sean said, trying to pry Mark's hands off him. "I was totally in, Mark! Why did you –"

"I almost cheated on Eduardo," Mark said, the words tumbling out of him uncontrollably. "I want – I need to get out of here."

"Shit, fuck, that isn't what I meant to happen," Sean said, eyes going wide. "God, Mark, that's – okay, I am getting one last drink in you and then I'm calling a car to get us home."

One drink ended up being three, and Sean had to pour Mark into the back of their town car, muttering under his breath as he did so. Mark slumped against the door, pressing his cheek against the cool window. Sean slid into the seat next to Mark and asked, "Was he cute at least?"

"I almost cheated on my husband who I don't even remember," Mark said miserably. He twisted the ring on his finger absently. "I – I couldn't do it, Sean."

"That's because you know, somewhere in that curly head of yours, that you love your Brazilian babe," Sean said. "You'll remember that soon enough." He sighed. "Look, Eduardo and I...may not get along, but you're happier when you're with him. And I never want to suffer through you whining about how you miss him ever again."

"I did that?" Mark asked fuzzily, eyes starting to close. 

"You did," said Sean. "So, so much."

"Oh," Mark said, and he thought he could remember that, because thinking about Eduardo now was like a sharp stab to the sternum, and he just wanted to go home and sleep forever so he wouldn't have to think about Brad or Eduardo or how much he hated _not remembering_.

Sean dropped him off at his house with the very helpful, "Be careful with your boy toy." Mark glared at him and dragged himself up the walk to his front door. It took him four tries to get his key in the door, but he made it in eventually. He drank a glass of water, then went upstairs, fully intending just to go to his room and pass out. 

Mark stumbled into his bedroom and was about to start stripping off his clothes when he heard a soft sniffle. Squinting, Mark made out the faint shape of Eduardo lying on the bed, curled up in a ball. He was holding something in his hands; it looked like a piece of clothing. 

Mark edged closer and saw that it was one of his sweatshirts. He stared at it for a moment and then looked closer at Eduardo. 

He was crying. Silently, yes, but he was definitely crying. 

Mark just stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. At home, his sisters had always just made him get them ice cream or, in his littlest sister's case, bread, when they were crying. But this was different; Mark knew that he was the reason Eduardo was crying. And they were married – that had to mean something. 

He cautiously sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out until his fingers just barely touched the ridge of Eduardo's cheek. Eduardo turned his face almost imperceptibly into Mark's touch and let out a ragged breath. Mark bit his lip and stroked Eduardo's skin gently, alcohol and guilt making him bolder. Eduardo groaned and reached up, seizing Mark's wrist. 

"Stop," he said quietly, voice thick. "I – I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't be home until later." He started to struggle up, still clutching Mark's sweatshirt in his hands. "I'll go back to the guest bedroom."

"You really love him – I mean, me," Mark said. There was a wet stain on the pillow where Eduardo's head had lain and his face was streaked with wetness. "Why?"

Eduardo let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook his head. "God, Mark, I don't know. Because you're you."

"I didn't –" Mark hesitated, wondering if he should mention what had happened. He decided against it, not wanting to see Eduardo's reaction. "I am – um, sorry, you know. If I upset you."

"You didn't," Eduardo assured him. "I just – I really miss you." He tried a smile, but didn't quite manage it. "We spent so long not talking to each other – it reminds me of – before. I miss you." He started to sit up. "I'll get out of your way."

"You should stay," Mark said. "It's fine."

"No, I'll go back to –"

Mark pushed Eduardo back down. "Stay," he said firmly. He pulled the sweatshirt out of Eduardo's hands and settled himself in the circle of Eduardo's arms instead. It felt weird, but also – comfortable. Familiar. 

Eduardo didn't move for a moment, and then he let out a long breath and buried his face in Mark's hair, which was kind of weird, but at least he wasn't crying anymore. Mark carefully draped his arm over Eduardo's waist, feeling like it was the thing to do, and closed his eyes. Eduardo smelled amazing, like woody cologne and something spicier. Mark pressed in closer instinctively, feet bumping against Eduardo's. 

"I'm sorry," Mark said again. He bit his lip and gently rested his hands on Eduardo's chest. "I wish I could remember you."

"Me too," Eduardo murmured into Mark's hair. He tightened his arms around Mark for a brief moment. "You don't have to do –"

"Shut up and go to sleep," Mark said. Eduardo laughed wetly and fell silent again. Gradually, his breath evened out and slowed down. Mark lay awake for a long time, wracked with guilt and frustration.

 

When Mark woke the next morning, he was lying alone in his bed. The sudden sharp stab of hurt he felt when he looked at the empty space Eduardo had left surprised him; he had been expecting Eduardo to be there, he realized, which was ridiculous. 

Then he heard the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom, and he sat up, feeling gross and slightly hungover. He groaned and struggled out of his shirt and sweater, then kicked off his jeans. He slipped back under the covers, intending to just close his eyes for a bit so he wouldn't think about Eduardo naked and wet. 

The next thing he knew, Eduardo was shaking him gently and saying, "Mark, you should go take a shower." 

Mark blinked up at him and said thickly, "You're wet."

Eduardo, whose hair was plastered to his forehead, laughed and said, "Yeah. Come on, Mark, shower time."

Mark let Eduardo manhandle him up and out of bed. Eduardo was wearing briefs and one of Mark's t-shirts – Mark was briefly smug that he remembered that the shirt was his – and he looked better than anything in the world. Mark didn't understand how older-Mark had found someone like Eduardo, but he was glad he had. 

"You're so nice," Mark mumbled as Eduardo pushed Mark into the steamy bathroom. "I don't deserve you."

Eduardo paused, blinking at Mark. "Mark?"

Mark shook his head and started to take off his boxers. Eduardo let out a small noise and backed out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Mark stumbled into the shower and turned it on as hot as he could stand. He stood underneath the spray until it had pounded the hangover out of him. 

He wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out into the bedroom. Eduardo was fussily tidying up the bed, still wearing only his underwear and the shirt. Mark said, "You like hospital corners, right?"

Eduardo started and turned around to look at him. "Yes," he said slowly. "You – you remember that?"

And Mark _did_ , suddenly. He remembered coming home to his dorm and seeing his bed neatly made with Eduardo sleeping on top of the comforter, his mouth turned down and his eyes shadowed. And he remembered the sharp pang in his heart when he had looked at him, the instinctive desire to climb in next to him. 

But he hadn't. Mark remembered that, too.

"I do," Mark said. He scooted around to the dresser and pulled out fresh underwear and clothes for himself. He dropped the towel and pulled on his boxers, smiling to himself. He had _remembered_ something about Eduardo. 

"I'm sorry about last night," Eduardo said a moment later. "I didn't mean for you to see that."

"You don't need to apologize," said Mark, turning to look at him. Eduardo wouldn't meet his eyes, so Mark went to him and poked him lightly in the arm. "Wardo, you don't need to –"

"What?" Eduardo said, head snapping up, and they stared at each other for a moment. "You – what did you just call me?"

"Wardo?" Mark said hesitantly. The nickname had just come to him, natural and obvious. "Wardo."

"God, Mark," Eduardo said weakly, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Mark chewed his lower lip anxiously, then said, "I should be apologizing, not you."

"Why would you need to apologize, Mark?" Eduardo asked tiredly. "You aren't the one who freaked out and started crying –"

"I almost cheated on you," Mark blurted out. Eduardo's head jerked up, his eyes wide and shocked. "I – this guy, he came over to me at the club and I guess – I didn't know what it was like. To flirt with a guy. And he made me dance."

"Made you dance?" Eduardo asked blankly. "You hate dancing."

"And he tried to kiss me," Mark continued, needing to get the words out. "But I – I didn't want it, Eduardo, I just wished it was you. I've wanted – you kissed me last week and it's all I've been able to think about."

"You didn't _let_ him kiss you, did you?" Eduardo asked, frowning. 

"No," Mark said emphatically. "It wasn't right. _He_ wasn't right."

Eduardo was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Mark fidgeted uncomfortably and wished he had put a shirt on. He was cold and nervous and felt a little like he wanted to throw up, though he wasn't sure whether that was because of the hangover or the guilt.

"Can I kiss you?" Eduardo asked finally. His voice sounded weird, thick with tension.

"Oh god, yes," Mark said, and Eduardo grabbed Mark's wrist to pull him forward. 

Eduardo's kiss was possessive, desperate – and Mark returned it with equal fervor, because Eduardo felt perfect and right and everything that Brad hadn't. Eduardo's nails scratched at Mark's back and Mark groaned, fisting his hand in the collar of Eduardo's shirt. 

Eduardo fell back onto the bed, pulling Mark with him so that Mark was straddling his lap, and Mark shuddered. He pushed at Eduardo's shirt needily, wanting to relearn the planes of Eduardo's body, to see if he remembered how Eduardo wanted to be touched. Eduardo helpfully lifted his arms so Mark could pull it off, but then he wrapped an arm around Mark's waist and rolled them over so he was pinning Mark to the bed. 

Mark swallowed hard, staring up at Eduardo's face. "Wardo," he breathed, reaching up, and Eduardo let his head drop so that Mark's fingers brushed his cheek. "I dreamed about this," Mark said, tilting his head up. 

"God, I missed you," Eduardo sighed, and he kissed Mark again, like he couldn't help himself. He sank against Mark so that their legs twined together and kissed the corner of Mark's mouth, his cheek, his jaw, murmuring against his skin. It took Mark a moment to realize that Eduardo was saying, " _Mine_ ," his voice raw. 

"Yours," Mark agreed, and Eduardo shuddered against him, hips jerking a little. Mark could feel Eduardo's erection pressing into his thigh through the thin layers of their underwear. 

Mark fumbled between them, trying to get his fingers into the waistband of Eduardo's briefs. Eduardo buried his face in Mark's neck, breathing hard, and let Mark get his hand into his underwear. Mark bit his lip when he got his hand around Eduardo's cock, and he gave it an experimental stroke. Eduardo let out a choked sound. 

"Mark," he said into Mark's neck. 

"Can I go down on you?" Mark asked, breathing hard. His mouth was watering now, and he knew, somehow, that he liked this, that he liked the weight and taste of it. 

"You don't have to," Eduardo said, but he twitched in Mark's hand. 

"I want to," Mark said, and he pushed at Eduardo's hips until Eduardo fell back against the pillows. There was a damp spot on his briefs and his cheeks were flushed. 

He looked perfect. 

Mark pulled Eduardo's briefs off and stopped for a moment to just drink in the sight of Eduardo's long legs sprawled out, his cock hard against his stomach. Eduardo squirmed a little, blushing darker, and said, "Come on, Mark, don't just –"

Mark rubbed his hands up Eduardo's thighs, stroking the line where his tan turned paler. Eduardo stuttered to a halt, legs going tight. Mark licked his lips, then ducked down between Eduardo's legs to take the head of his cock into his mouth. 

Eduardo groaned and threaded his fingers through Mark's hair possessively. Mark wrapped one hand around the base of Eduardo's dick and took as much of Eduardo in as he could, trying not to be startled when Eduardo's hips canted upwards. 

He looked up as he moved, trying to see Eduardo's face, and saw that Eduardo's eyes were tightly closed, his mouth pressed into a line. Mark shifted a little, trying to get some friction against his dick, and tried to remember what Eduardo liked. 

Eduardo swore when Mark pressed his tongue against the tip of Eduardo's dick and his hips bucked up. Mark choked a little and pulled off to glare at Eduardo. 

"Sorry, sorry!" Eduardo gasped out, rubbing a thumb soothingly along Mark's lower lip. "It's, just – your mouth, I can't – come up here, I want to fuck you."

Mark blinked up at him and said, "Oh, uh, sure," and let Eduardo pull him up. 

Eduardo kissed him before turning Mark onto his stomach and running a proprietary hand over the curve of Mark's ass. Mark shivered and pressed his face into the pillows, inhaling the smell of Eduardo's hair as Eduardo fumbled in the bedside table for something later. 

"Relax, babe," Eduardo said absently. A moment later, Eduardo's hand was back, nudging Mark's thighs apart. Eduardo kissed the base of Mark's spine and then pressed his first finger inside. 

Mark was half-expecting not to like it, but at Eduardo's touch, he melted further into the mattress. Eduardo curled his finger searchingly and Mark groaned, reaching up to grab at the pillow. Eduardo slipped the second finger in easily, and Mark pushed back, desperate for more. 

"God," Eduardo sighed. "You – Mark –"

"What are you _waiting_ for?" demanded Mark, and Eduardo laughed so hard that he pulled his hand away. " _Fuck_ , Wardo –"

"You're such an asshole," Eduardo said, and he pulled Mark up onto his hands and knees. 

"No, wait," Mark said, trying to twist around, "I want to see you."

"Oh," Eduardo said, and he let go of Mark, sitting back. He grinned at Mark, a little doofily, and said, "You usually like it on your hands and knees."

"I want to see you," Mark repeated stubbornly. Eduardo pushed up one of Mark's legs and rubbed his cock against the top of Mark's thigh. Mark's head thumped back against the pillows. 

"I'm not objecting," Eduardo said. 

When he pushed in, Mark breathed out hard and stared at the look of deep concentration on Eduardo's face. Eduardo caught his eye and made a face before thrusting in all the way. 

"Fuck," Mark said, eyes rolling back a bit. Eduardo wrapped his hand around Mark's dick and began to jerk him off sloppily, off beat from the cadence of his thrusts, but it didn't matter because sparks were going off in Mark's brain and he was pretty sure he was either having a stroke or about to come. 

Mark came over Eduardo's hand, splattering them both, and Eduardo swore, fucking Mark harder until tears were gathering in Mark's eyes from overstimulation. "Fuck, Wardo, come _on_ ," Mark said, and he pulled Eduardo's face to his for a rough, uncoordinated kiss. 

Eduardo came inside him, which probably should have been gross, but was actually kind of weirdly awesome, especially when Eduardo pressed his fingers against Mark's hole wonderingly. Mark just let him, feeling too boneless and sated to move. 

"And I just made the bed," Eduardo said wryly, looking around at the rumpled sheets. 

"I just took a shower," Mark pointed out. 

Eduardo lay down next to him and kissed his shoulder. "So did I. This was better." He leaned up on his elbow, then, and frowned down at Mark. "So don't go flirting with any more guys."

"No," Mark agreed, smiling a little. Eduardo smiled smugly and scooted in closer. After a moment, Mark said, "Sean was right."

Eduardo snorted. "About what?"

"Possessive sex _is_ pretty awesome," Mark said, and Eduardo groaned good-naturedly before kissing him into silence. 

 

That night, Mark dreamed about the depositions, about Eduardo looking pale and exhausted and so sad. He remembered the bone-deep resentment and anger he had felt at everyone, especially Eduardo, and when he woke up, he felt breathless and terrified. He woke Eduardo up by shaking his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry."

Eduardo squinted blearily at him. "For what?"

"The depositions," Mark said. "I – it was bad."

"Oh, Mark," Eduardo said with a lopsided smile. "You've apologized for those already."

"I want to say it again," Mark said firmly, moving closer to Eduardo. "I don't know how this – why did you even want to see me again?"

"I'll always want to see you, no matter how angry I am with you," Eduardo said. He smiled a little sadly. "You can't even remember me properly and look at me. Taking advantage –"

"No, shut up," Mark said impatiently, waving his hand dismissively. "You're not taking advantage. I don't need to remember you to know that I – that I want you. I remember it, Eduardo. I remember being in love with you."

Eduardo frowned now. "What?"

"I was in love with you. At Harvard." Eduardo just looked at him, baffled. "Older- Mark – I mean, I – never told you?"

"No," Eduardo said slowly. "You don't – we don't talk about Harvard that often." 

"Well, I was," Mark said. He settled down so that his head was resting against Eduardo's shoulder. "I loved you then."

After a moment, Eduardo curled his arm around Mark. "I wish I had known."

"How did we meet?" Mark asked curiously. "I haven't remembered that yet."

Eduardo's laugh rumbled against Mark's side. "It was an AEPi party – the Jewish frat," he added when Mark made a questioning noise. I had heard about you from someone. The Synapse thing. But you were standing all by yourself –"

And suddenly Mark can see it in his head, the terrible college events room and the worse outfits. He had been lurking against the wall while Dustin danced, and then –

"And you came up to me and asked me why I said no to Microsoft," Mark said. 

Eduardo went very still. Then he said, "Mark?"

"You were wearing a really ugly lei," Mark said, and Eduardo made a soft, slightly choked noise. Worried, Mark looked up at him. "Wardo?"

"I'm fine, I promise," Eduardo said, voice thick and choked. 

"You don't sound fine," Mark said. "Are you crying again?"

"Shut up," Eduardo said, and he pulled Mark closer against him. "I'm glad you remember that."

"I didn't mean to –" Mark started, but Eduardo cut him off. 

"No, it's fine, Mark. I'm fine." He sighed. "Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Wardo, come on," Mark tried, but Eduardo shook his head. 

 

"Well," Dustin said when he picked Mark up on Monday, "you look happy."

Mark smirked and said, "Wardo and I –"

"No, stop," Dustin said, "I know that look, I don't need to hear the details. I know you had sex, I'm not an idiot."

Mark said, "You're just jealous," and grinned out the window all the way to work. 

His memories continued to come back slowly, set off by the randomest things. He remembered the day Facebook went live when Dustin came to sit on his conference table, and he started remembering the names of the Facebook employees towards the end of that week. Dustin, naturally, took this as his cue to start quizzing Mark from the conference room, pointing at people through the glass and saying, "Who's she?"

"That isn't actually going to make me remember faster," Mark said, but it did actually help a bit, because Dustin would tell him the names he didn't know. 

"I think we can let you use your actual computer tomorrow," Dustin said happily. "Your memories are mostly back, right?"

"Still patchy," Mark said. He could feel the gaps like missing teeth; he kept trying to jog memories of Eduardo by looking through photos and asking Eduardo about things he couldn't remember. He could tell that Eduardo was still upset every time he said something Mark was supposed to know – but he was making progress.

"You seem to have remembered Facebook pretty well," Dustin said. "Your code looks almost identical to what you were doing before."

Mark shrugged. "If you say so." 

"I do," Dustin said cheerfully. "You're ready to be back amongst us, Mark." He slapped Mark on the shoulder and slid off the table. "Now go on home to your hotass husband, it's after five."

"You're my ride," Mark pointed out. 

"He'll be by soon," said Dustin. "Go on, it's fine."

Mark, who was starting to recall the fierce possessiveness he felt over Facebook, said, "Are you sure?"

" _Go_ ," Dustin said, rolling his eyes. "I called him, he's coming to pick you up. Something about going out to dinner."

Mark got up and said, "Fine, okay."

"Love you too, Mark," Dustin said, and Mark flipped him off as he headed out to the front of the offices. 

Sure enough, Eduardo was idling at the curb, looking expectant. Mark slipped into the passenger seat and leaned over the center divider to kiss the corner of Eduardo's mouth. Eduardo let out a surprised noise and reached out to grab Mark's shoulder. 

"No, no," Eduardo said, pulling back and shaking his head. "I was going to tell you that tonight we're going to have a dinner date." 

"Okay," Mark said, sitting back in his seat. "What was our first date?"

Eduardo laughed and shifted the car into drive. " _You_ claim it was the reunion burger we had after we made up, but I think it was the month after that when we went to the Cheesecake Factory."

Mark smiled at him and looked out the window. "So where are we going?"

"Cheesecake Factory," Eduardo said promptly, and he turned right. 

They ate a quiet dinner, talking about nothing in particular. Eduardo complained about one of his clients, who was, in his words, "A total moron."

Mark laughed despite himself and said, "You must really hate him."

"I do," Eduardo agree. "He's _awful_." He leaned back in the vinyl booth and sighed. "What about you, how are you doing?"

"Dustin thinks I've remembered enough to start working as normal," Mark said. "I know there are some things I still don't remember, but – I think I'll get there."

"Oh," Eduardo said and he sounded – disappointed, somehow. 

"Wardo?" Mark said slowly. "You don't – I thought you _wanted_ me to remember you."

"Of course I do!" Eduardo said, shocked. "I do, Mark."

"Then why do you sound like you don't want me to?" Mark asked suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing, Mark," Eduardo said tiredly. "Don't be ridiculous, I want you to remember me more than anything. It's hard, looking at you and seeing someone else look back at me."

"But?" Mark prompted, staring at Eduardo.

Eduardo wouldn't meet his eyes as he pulled out his wallet. "Let's talk about it at home, okay Mark?"

"Wardo –"

"At _home_ ," Eduardo repeated, and he signaled the waiter for the check.

 

Mark sulked all the way home, annoyed and angry with Eduardo. He had been _so happy_ that he was getting his memories back and Eduardo, who had been so eager for Mark to remember, was being cagey now. He stomped into the house, ignoring Beast, and said, "What is going on?"

"Mark, you know I'm happy you're getting your memory back," Eduardo started. 

"But you also aren't happy about it," Mark said sharply. "Don't lie to me, Wardo."

"It's nothing –"

"Eduardo." Mark stared at him, jaw set. 

Eduardo heaved a sigh and admitted, "You were acting really weird before you – before the accident." 

Mark frowned, startled. "How so?"

"I don't know, you were being really distant," Eduardo said, looking upset. "You were staying late at work, you were being kind of secretive –"

"What did you think was going on?" Mark asked, now growing nervous. "I wouldn't cheat on you, Eduardo, I think we proved that conclusively." 

"No!" Eduardo said, shaking his head. "But it reminded me of how you acted – well, how you acted right before you diluted me out of Facebook."

Mark's stomach dropped. "You thought I was going to divorce you."

"I don't know!" Eduardo exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "We're not a perfect couple, Mark, we argue all the time and we're _both_ workaholics and I know people never expected us to last as long as we have –"

"I wasn't going to," Mark said fiercely. "I _wouldn't_."

"You can't even remember getting _married_ , you don't know that!" Eduardo said, going red in the face.

"I wouldn't," Mark said again. He knew, with utter certainty, that he would cling to Eduardo for as long as Eduardo would let him. He reached out for Eduardo's hand. "I don't know why I was acting weird, Wardo, but I would never leave you."

"You don't know that," Eduardo whispered, even as he tightened his grip on Mark's hand. 

"I do," Mark said. "I _know_ , Wardo." He took a deep breath, heart pounding, and he said, "I love you."

Eduardo promptly teared up, and he swore, scrubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "God, this is ridiculous," he grumbled, voice hitching a little. "I'm not normally this insane."

Mark said, "You're fine," and kissed him gently until Eduardo sighed and relaxed into him. Beast jumped up on Mark's leg and they broke apart, giddy and giggly. 

"Hi, hi," Eduardo said to Beast, reaching down to scratch his head. "We're fine."

Mark watched Eduardo play with Beast and felt a weird, swoopy sensation in his stomach. He hoped he was right about older-Mark; he didn't want to get his memories back if Eduardo's instincts had been right. 

He had just gotten Eduardo; he couldn't lose him this quickly. 

They had slow, lazy sex on the couch after getting bored watching the Food Network. "This is stupid," Mark had said halfway through Cupcake Wars, and Eduardo had rolled his eyes, saying, "That's what you _always_ say," and then Mark pushed him back onto the cushions. 

Eduardo sucked a hickey underneath Mark's ear and laughed when Mark scowled at him, and Mark said, "I love you," again, just to watch the way Eduardo's expression changed. 

"I love you too," Eduardo breathed, and he pulled Mark into his arms. 

 

The next morning, Mark went to the office with Dustin and sat back at his real desk. It was oddly settling, and he knew instinctively where everything was. He smiled to himself, put on his headphones, and settled in for a day of work. 

Later, when he was taking a break, he thought to look through the papers on his desk. He picked them up on his way to the cafeteria, rolling his eyes at some of Chris's memos and laughing at the notes Dustin had left him. 

Then he found a thick manila envelope. He opened it up curiously and found a thick sheaf of legal documents. He only caught sight of his and Eduardo's names before he had to stop, his heart clenching painfully. He tried to shove the papers back in, breath coming in short gasps, but there was something else in the envelope stopping him. 

He shook the envelope until the offending item slid out. It was, of all things, a brochure. And it read _ABOUT ADOPTION_ in big, blue letters across the top. 

Mark dropped his armful of papers in shock. One of the passing interns let out a startled yelp and immediately dropped to her knees to help him clean them up. He tried desperately to grab the pamphlet from her before she could see it, but she picked it up absently and then froze. 

"Mr. Zuckerberg?" she said hesitantly. 

"Mark," he corrected. "Give that to me. Don't tell _anyone_."

"Of course not," she said, shaking her head and shoving the pamphlet at him. "I never saw this, this didn't happen." 

Mark grabbed it and hugged it tightly to his chest, feeling himself going red. "Thanks, uh –"

"Lily," she said. "It's fine, Mr – Mark." She grinned suddenly and winked. "Good luck."

She hurried off before he could say anything else, so Mark continued on his way to the cafeteria, only now he felt slightly-lightheaded and off-kilter. 

He sequestered himself in a quarter and set the papers down in front of him. He picked up the brochure, his hands shaking a little, and opened it up. It was well-worn from use, and Mark traced his fingers over the words, wondering how often older-Mark had looked at this. 

He rifled back through the stack of papers and pulled out the sheaf of legal documents. This time, he actually read them, mouth dry.

And he remembered. 

He remembered meeting Eduardo at the AEPi party and being confused by the hot pull of attraction in his stomach, and he remembered being hopelessly, horribly in love with Eduardo and doing his best not to show it. He remembered being angry and insecure and jealous and so, so lonely in California, wishing that Eduardo would just _listen_ and come work with him. He remembered the harsh, cold years after the deposition where he spent a lot of time dating other people and going out with Sean. 

And then Eduardo had come back, just for some event, but Mark hadn't been able to stop himself from going up to him and asking him to get a drink with him, and he had kept trying until eventually Eduardo had said yes. 

Mark remembered getting married and the media storm that had followed it; he remembered getting Beast, and watching Eduardo with his nephew, and deciding that, yes, he wanted that too. 

Mark had never thought he would want kids, never thought he even deserved them, but Eduardo did. And he wanted that. 

Mark pressed his hand flat against the stack of adoption papers and blinked hard. He had to get home. 

He forced Dustin to give him a ride back to his house. Once home, he walked straight to Eduardo's office, the adoption papers and brochures clutched in his arms. For a moment, Mark just stood there in the doorframe, staring at Eduardo with new appreciation. He was impossible and perfect and Mark never wanted to forget him ever again. 

Eduardo jumped when Mark rapped his knuckles on the wall and said, "Mark, what are you doing home?"

"This is why I was acting weird," Mark said, and he dropped the papers on Eduardo's desk. 

Eduardo looked down and let out a small noise. Mark watched anxiously as Eduardo picked up the pamphlet, hands shaking a little. "Mark, this –" Eduardo turned his face up towards him, eyes huge. "You wanted to adopt?"

"I was afraid of asking you." Mark shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I thought – we haven't even been married that long and –"

"Wait," Eduardo said, holding up his hand. "You – you _remember_?" He got to his feet, pamphlet slipping from his hands."Mark –"

"You were wearing a black shirt and you had forgotten to do the laundry," Mark said, "so you were wearing the Halloween socks your mom sent you."

"When was that?" Eduardo asked, stepping closer to Mark. 

"You know when it was," Mark said grumpily. 

"I want to hear you say it," Eduardo said, smiling, and Mark rolled his eyes. "Mark."

"When we got married," he said. "You wanted to go home and change clothes, but I wouldn't let you."

Eduardo sighed happily and wrapped his arms around Mark's waist. "And you were wearing your stupid sweatpants." He pecked Mark's mouth lightly, then rubbed his nose against Mark's, the way he always did early in the morning. "You're _back_."

"I was never gone," Mark protested, which made Eduardo snort and kiss him again, this time slower and with more intent. Mark reached up and linked his hands behind Eduardo's neck, pressing up into him and closing his eyes. 

"You really want to adopt a kid?" Eduardo asked when they parted for air. "We can't even keep _you_ safe around here –"

"I knew you'd say that," Mark grumbled. "It doesn't have to be now, Wardo. I just –" He shrugged. "I want to."

"We'll talk about it," Eduardo said, and he hugged Mark close, burying his face in Mark's neck. He was shaking a little, and Mark hoped that Eduardo wasn't about to start crying again. 

"Wardo," Mark said, "if you're crying again –"

"You're such an asshole," Eduardo said, lifting his head to glare at Mark. His eyes were a little damp and red. "God, I love you."

"I love you too," Mark said. "Let's have sex now."

"Mark, I'm working," Eduardo protested weakly as Mark untucked the hem of his shirt. 

"Yeah, whatever," Mark said, and he pushed Eduardo back onto his chair and climbed into his lap, determined to make up for lost time.


End file.
